


We’ve waited too long (to come home)

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Abby Griffin POV, Age Difference, Bellamy Blake POV, Bellarke, Bellarke slow burn, Clarke Griffin POV, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Protective Bellamy Blake, Raven Reyes POV, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: He really shouldn’t be feeling this way. At all. She’s roughly his sister’s age, for fucks sake. He sure could be messing with someone his age instead, now that the Ark had come down and there were survivors.But he just couldn’t.___Or: Bellamy and Clarke reflect on their age difference and wonder if it would be a mistake to pursue more than a friendship.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 165





	We’ve waited too long (to come home)

She’s 17 and he’s 23 when they meet.

Eyes locked at the closed dropship door, she told him the air could be toxic.

“If the air is toxic we are all dead anyway”, he had said.

 _Well then_.

To her, he had just been a reckless man that had shot the Chancellor for a chance to follow his sister down to Earth. An illegal sister. So she wasn’t surprised when he started acting like he owned the place, not really. Because it was what boys, men, like him did: boss around and not take shit.

What had surprised her, though, was how quickly he seemed to accept her as co-leader of camp. She was the most sensible, logical (and medical-adept) person among the 100 hormonal teenagers that had been launched to their deaths. And people listened to Bellamy, for some reason.

It probably had to do with the fact that he had punched three kids without hesitation within the first 24 hours of their arrival. Perhaps they listened to him out of fear.

Whatever, she thought. That was doing it for her.

It wasn’t after her breakup (was it really a breakup, if they had never been a thing?) with Finn that she started to notice Bellamy. To really notice him.

The way he hadn’t hesitated to grab her arm as she fell to her (very bloody and hurtful) death, the way his eyes had pierced into hers as she hung over the spears… She wondered if he had thought about dropping her.

He had taught her to handle guns the minute they had found them in a bunker. He stood behind her, touching her just barely for guidance, with more amount of respect than he had ever shown to anyone in camp, as she adjusted the gun in her hands. She knew he had been embarrassed. She had sensed the awkwardness in his voice, the way he had scratched the back of his neck while she fired her first shot.

 _Well, that’s new_.

It was in the way his eyes flickered in the light of the fire pit, or the way an easy smile drew on his lips when the delinquents gathered around some deer and moonshine, and the mood seemed to lighten a bit. It never lasted long, as he always seemed to be alert, but at least she got to see the rare sight of a happy Bellamy standing a few feet from her. She never took it for granted.

It was easy to forget he was six years older than her when he always treated her as an equal.

It was always, ‘Let me ask Clarke’, ‘Whatever Clarke says’, ‘What do you think, Clarke?’.

He didn’t seem to be faking it, though. He genuinely seemed to be interested in her opinion, and willing to trust her judgement. They argued over stuff, sure, but they always came to an agreement. Sooner or later. Kind of.

She also grew to trust him, with time. She learned he was more heart than anger, and it brought her a sense of relief she couldn’t explain. He could be tough when she needed him to be. But his gaze could also turn soft and compassionate, which usually meant she could cry on his shoulder if she wanted to.

It caught her by surprise, the way he had calmed her down after they lost Charlotte. She couldn’t understand, because she knew he was as close to Charlotte as she was. Yet there he was, eyes soft on her, his hand on her shoulder tenderly, as she fought back ugly tears.

She had absentmindedly covered his hand with hers, partially. It was a comforting gesture to show him that she was there for him as well. It was a silent promise.  
But the minute her small hand touched his enormous one, she realised she had made a mistake. Oh, what a mistake.

The following days she couldn’t stop looking at his hands. Were they that big when they first landed? It was impossible for hands to grow that much in just a few weeks...right? She was (kind of) a doctor, so she should know those things weren’t possible.

 _Stop being a fool_ , she told herself.

She didn’t want to think about it. But she always found herself very much thinking about it, his hands, his hands running through his messy hair, his hands tight on his gun, his hands on her shoulder, his hands on her waist, his hands on her—

“Clarke”, his voice was firm, somewhat urgent.

She sighed silently before turning around to face him. She definitely wasn’t ready for the sight that awaited her, but she showed no weakness, “Yes?”

He was walking towards her, jacket too tight on his shoulders, a hint of sweat on his forehead. She swallowed.

“A kid tripped on our hunting trip and hurt his ankle”, he informed her, looking right at her eyes. She fought the urge to look away. When had it gotten so hot outside anyway?, “We think it’s twisted”, he added after a pause. Then, he smirked, “But you’re the doc. You tell us, Princess.”

And there it was.

A fucking blush.

_Get a grip, Griffin._

She ignored the nickname for her own good, although the damage was done. She looked past him, “I’ll be there in second”, and she walked away as quickly as she could.

Luckily for her, and for her patient, he wasn’t around in medbay. What had gotten into her, anyway? She needed to keep it together. They needed to survive, and the delinquents depended on her. Quite literally, sometimes. She needed to focus. Her little crush on Bellamy shouldn’t be at the top of her priority list.

She swallowed, her face going blank. Crush. _Shit_.

Octavia had asked if she was okay later that day, “You look pale as a ghost, Clarke”, she crossed her arms. God, she practically saw Bellamy in her. Definitely not what she needed at that moment.

She nodded a little too quickly, “I’m fine”, she continued when the younger Blake didn’t seem at all convinced, “Just tired.”

Octavia gave her a look. Clarke was too tired to decipher it, “Take care, doctor”, she said, and suddenly she was alone in medbay again.

The moon was out, its dim light shining on her medical equipment. She heard footsteps outside, and low voices. She guessed most of the delinquents were already deep in their sleep. She envied them - it seemed that sleep was the only cure for her latest disease. Perhaps it was just infatuation. Silly physical attraction that would turn cold in a few days. It had to be.

The flap of the medbay tent opened quietly. She knew who it was the second he heard his footsteps, “Hey”, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She concentrated on the metal tools in front of her, as if they had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the universe.

She made a humming noise to acknowledge his presence. She heard his footsteps come closer, until he saw his tall figure by the corner of her eye, leaning on the table next to her.

“Octavia told me you weren’t feeling well”, he said after a pause. His arms were crossed over his chest, gaze far ahead in the dim light of the tent.

It almost surprised her how he had come all the way to medbay to check on her.

She shook her head as she rearranged the tools in front of her, “I told her I was just tired.”

“Right”, his lips formed a straight line.

Silence flooded the room for a while. Clarke felt strange in his presence, and she didn’t like it. She had never felt this nervous around him, and she shouldn’t. They were co-leaders. The survival and prosperity of their camp depended on them. They couldn’t be distracted. She couldn’t.

When she was done with her tools, or at least done pretending she was, she looked at him. He looked back at her.

“I’m worried about you.”

 _Oh_.

Was he, now?

She bit her lip absentmindedly as she hugged herself for comfort, “You don’t have to be”, her voice cracked, “I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you, Princess”, he was looking at her now, a small smile on his lips. His eyes looked tired. She guessed he didn’t sleep much these days.

She smiled back, eyes equally as exhausted. She leaned back on the table behind her, “I’ll be fine.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “Okay”, he understood he wouldn’t crack her. Not that night, “I’ll walk you to your tent.”

Thank God it was dark. Clarke swore her whole face turned red in that second.

She nodded and started following him outside. When he was about to swing the flap open, “Bellamy, wait”, it was too late now. He stopped right on his tracks, hand, that hand, already on the flap. He was looking at her, “Thank you. For checking on me”.

His expression was indecipherable in the dark. He simply nodded, and opened the flap for her. She walked through it, ducking slightly so she could fit under the arm that was holding it open.

He walked behind her in silence. She could feel his eyes on her, and it was building an undeniable tension on her shoulders.

When they reached her tent, she pulled the zipper down and looked back at him, “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

He nodded, “Night, Clarke”, he paused, “Take care. Please.”

The worry in his voice did something to her heart. She ignored it.

* * *

He’s 24 and she’s 18 when he realises he’s got it bad for her.

 _Really_ bad.

He really shouldn’t be feeling this way. At all. She’s roughly his sister’s age, for fucks sake. He sure could be messing with someone his age instead, now that the Ark had come down and there were survivors.

But he just couldn’t.

The age thing may have been a problem in the past, he guessed. He remembered reading about some story about a 50-year-old man dating a woman in her 20s, and thinking it was weird as hell. He had never closed a book faster in his life.

However, on Earth, age gaps didn’t seem to be their main concern.

He was just six years older than she was, and they were both adults. It’s not like she was 16 or something. He cringed at the thought.

Yet he couldn’t help but feel as if he was taking advantage of her, somehow. He was 24, she was 18, and she could feel pressured to do certain things with him if he made a move. His blood boiled at the thought of someone making Clarke do something she didn’t want or felt comfortable with, and he couldn’t stand being that someone. Not when he could just ignore his feelings and avoid the mess.

But Clarke was smart, intelligent, sharp, and all the good things a person could be. Most importantly, she didn’t take shit. She wouldn’t take his, and he knew it.

Still.

It was the way she carried herself what had sparked a certain interest in him. She was able to command, heal and be respected all at the same time. It was impressive, because at first he took her for a stupid, privileged girl.

Privileged, she definitely had been. Now, stupid? Absolutely not.

And she was just so...small. Looking at her tiny form and angelic blue eyes, no one would bet she could snap as hard as she usually did. No one would guess she was so damn fierce. The mere thought of her drew a smile on his lips.

He eventually settled that he was too old for her, and that it would be innapropiate to make a move. What would his sister think? Would she think he was some kind of pervert? So, he chose to not acknowledge his feelings (the burning desire he felt in his chest the moment his eyes lied on her), and went on with his life.

For about five days.

Living in Camp Jaha had its benefits and its setbacks. They weren’t alone anymore, but at the same time they weren’t alone anymore. Following orders had never been Bellamy’s forte, and he was just getting used to being under Kane’s command.

However, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, he was kind of grateful for the adults. Taking care of 99 hormonal teenagers (Well, 97. His sister and Clarke definitely didn’t fall into that category. Just, no.) proved to be more difficult than he thought. He couldn’t bear to go through another pitiful fist fight for a girl.

He was fine for five days, and then he wasn’t. Five long and uneventful days in which he had barely seen Clarke - only at meetings and sometimes at lunchtime. He knew she was busy between being with her mother in medbay, and setting meetings with the Grounders. He missed her, yes, but he wouldn’t allow himself to feel anything else for her.

Until he physically couldn’t stand it any longer.

In his defence, it wasn’t him, okay? He would’ve been just fine on that fifth day if he hadn’t seen _him_ with her. So, technically, it was his fault, not Bellamy’s.

Right?

Finn Collins was a pain in the ass. He always thought he knew better than he really did, and it was painful to have a conversation with him. He wasn’t a leader, and Bellamy thought he should stop acting like one.

But other than that, the man had never thought twice about his presence. He was kind of a nuance, sure, but that was it.

Now the damn boy was making his blood boil.

Clarke was standing in front of him, head thrown back in laughter at something he had said, and it physically hurt him. He felt a stab on the chest, and his throat suddenly went dry.

What was so funny about him? About the boy who had cheated on her ex-girlfriend with her? Had she already forgotten about all the unnecessary pain he had caused? He wanted to scream at her, shake some sense into her system. And he wanted him gone. Far away from Clarke.

It was stupid, and it was childish - he knew that. But he couldn’t care less as he strolled in their direction, hisbback straight and his shoulders broad as they could be, chin high. It was a primal instinct, he knew that. And he also knew he was fucked.

Clarke noticed him first, “Bellamy, hi”, a small smile still lingered in her lips as she spoke to him.

He towered over her, looking down at Finn as well. He stood a little too close to the blonde’s side, but he couldn’t care less. An 18-year-old boy wasn’t going to get away with anything if he was around. Not when it came to her.

“Hey”, he replied, voice deeper and raspier than usual, “Octavia is looking for you”, he lied. He didn’t even feel bad about it.

Finn looked at him, eyes full of something he couldn’t quite decipher. Bellamy didn’t flinch.

“Sure, yeah, let’s go”, her eyes travelled from him to him, “See you later, Finn”, she smiled.

 _Fuck_.

“Later”, the boy said, unconvinced, and then he was gone.

Clarke turned to face him, giving him her full attention. As it should be, he thought.

He immediately slapped himself. He couldn’t gatekeeper her like that. He wasn’t her brother, and he sure as hell wasn’t her boyfriend. Yes, they were friends, co-leaders, partners. But that didn’t give him any right to do what he had just done.

Well, too late.

“Where’s Octavia?”, her eyes were so big and so blue he wanted to scream. He swallowed. The moment she looked at him, she immediately knew what was up, “She wasn’t looking for me”, her arms were now crossed over her chest, her voice stern.

 _Shit_.

He pretended not to be affected by her cold-blooded stare, “She wasn’t”, he confessed.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “It’s Finn, isn’t it?”

_Damn._

“I hope you didn’t forget what he did to you”.

“I didn’t forget, Bellamy. But I forgave him. We have more important issues to deal with than Finn Collins”, she stated matter-of-factly, “I can’t waste my energy on him like that”.

He nodded, “I understand”

She nodded back, “Good”.

Then, a pause. God, he sure looked like a creep at that moment. He had worried for nothing, and it was embarrassing. Had really thought-

“Did you really think I was going to give him a chance?”, she asked, taking his words right from his thoughts.

Her voice was just as stern, but her eyes looked softer. He relaxed in response, as well, “I don’t know”, he confessed. He shrugged, “Maybe.”

She gave him a weird look, then smirked, “I was hoping you thought I knew better.”

“I do trust your judgement, Princess”, he smirked back, “Most of the time.”

She punched him in the arm playfully, and rolled her eyes again, “Don’t be so worried”, she teased him, “I promise to bring every boyfriend and girlfriend home for your approval.”

His heart did a thing, “Good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Fantastic.”

“Incredible.”

“Amazing.”

“You’re dumb as hell”, Raven’s voice startled them from the other side of the corridor. When had she gotten there? There was a mischievous smirk in her lips as she looked at them.

Clarke chuckled, “I’ll catch you later, guys.”

Bellamy stayed behind when she left, looking at the smirking brunette in front of him. Raven’s mind was bright in every way, not just when it came to mechanical stuff and saving their lives in ways he didn’t even think were possible. Raven was smart, and he knew he had been caught the moment she laid her eyes on him.

“You’ve got it bad”, she stated simply.

He thought of denying it, but when it came to Raven Reyes, he knew better than to fight a battle he was going to lose anyway, “That obvious?”

“Yeah”, she shrugged, “Has been for a while.”

He gulped and fought the urge to scratch the back of his neck. He couldn’t help the words that fell out of his lips next, “Do you think it’s wrong?”

Raven’s smirk turned into a confused expression. She arched an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I’m older than her”, he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, “You’re not grooming her, Bellamy”, she sounded so sure he wanted to believe her, “You’re friends, co-leaders, partners, whatever term you decide to come up with to justify your undeniable relationship”, she shook her head, her long ponytail flying everywhere, “You trust and respect each other, that much is obvious. And for God’s sake, Bellamy, you’re not forty nor is she fifteen.”

He nodded, slowly, “I know.”

“You’re fine, Bellamy. This is fine”, she paused, “Don’t fight it. You’ll regret it.”

Would he?

As he walked into the dinning hall that night and saw Clarke sitting with his sister and a few of their friends, an easy smile on her lips, he started to think that maybe he would.

* * *

  
She’s 19 and he’s 25 when people starting noticing their relationship.

Their dynamic had never seemed weird for the delinquents. Bellamy and Clarke were the unquestionable leaders of camp, their Chancellors if you will.

Their mom and dad, according to Jasper. And then to everyone else.

“Jasper, for fuck’s sake, keep that fucking moonshine locked until nighttime.”

“Sure, dad.”

“Don’t remove the bandage, Jasper. Even if it’s itchy. I’ll literally kill you if you make me clean that wound again.”

“You got it, mom.”

It wasn’t long before the entire camp adopted the nicknames, much to Clarke and Bellamy’s dismay. They usually called them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ behind their backs, but sometimes it accidentally slipped. And it usually got awkward.

There was never an appropriate time to be called ‘mom’ by a bunch of teenagers, not when you absolutely weren’t one. But Clarke thought that, out of the most inappropriate times to call her the infamous nickname, the worst one had to be in front of her own mother.

The hunting party had been successful that day, but some cadets had arrived with minor cuts and bites, courtesy of their delicious dinner. Medbay was at full capacity that night, and Clarke’s help was required.

Monroe flinched under Clarke’s touch, the antiseptic clearly making an effect on her wound, “Hurts like a bitch”, she chuckled.

“I know. I’m sorry,” the blonde started to wrap a bandage around the girl’s wrist, “It shouldn’t sting anymore in about a couple of days.”

Abby moved towards the table across her daughter, blood examples in hand. She didn’t mean to listen, but she did anyway.

“Great. Thanks, mom.”

Clarke rolled her eyes to fight the creeping blush on her cheeks. She had gotten used to the nickname, but not there. Not in Arkadia. Not in front of her mother. Had she heard Monroe?

She thought they had forgotten all about it, that they were too embarrassed to call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ in front of the adults. It wasn’t just them anymore. They couldn’t do whatever the hell they wanted. They needed to behave, kind of, to coexist. She sure hadn’t expected the nickname to resurface.

Maybe it had never gone away at all.

She dismissed Monroe after that and went to check on her next patient. Abby followed her soon after, results of her analysis in hand. She looked at her daughter, so different from the little girl she once raised, and had to fight back tears.

Something had clicked in Abby’s mind, and it had made her stomach flip. Not even a week before, she had experienced a similar event.

She hadn’t seen Marcus almost all day, and she hated to admit that she had missed him. His company was pleasant, a steady reassurance at her side and a reminder that they were doing the right thing, and moving forward. Or at least trying to. He was no longer the stern man she once knew in the Ark, and she was grateful for that.

She wasn’t the same woman either, after all.

She found him close to the gates, a bunch of kids exercising in front of him. She then noticed another man walking around the cadets, checking their rhythm and posture.

Bellamy Blake.

His big arms crossed in front of his chest, his stare as firm as his steps as he looked down at the cadets and nodded. He was no longer the man she had met a year ago. He definitely wasn’t the boy she had heard of in the Ark.

He looked less angry these days, but equally as intimidating. Not as reckless, and more understanding. She knew Marcus had to do with that change. Bellamy had practically become a younger version of Kane, whether he liked it or not. Which he might not have in the past, but Abby was sure they had grown to like each other. She knew Marcus saw himself in him.

Marcus had to do with his change, of course, but she hated to admit that her daughter was the main responsible for his shift.

Clarke was no longer the same obedient, innocent girl she had raised in space. She wasn’t naive, and she didn’t hesitate to throw a punch or fire a gun. She blamed Bellamy Blake for that, sort of.

At first she had put all the blame on the boy, man, and accused him (on her mind) of having damaged her daughter beyond repair.

But then she had seen Clarke launch herself into his open arms, and she was forced to change her views. It was in the way he had held her, arms so tight around her petite form Abby thought her daughter was going to explode. But she didn’t show any sign of discomfort, and hugged him as strongly instead.

She had watched Octavia’s amused and shocked expression, and Abby was intelligent enough to grasp that Octavia thought that was a first, “That’s something I thought I’d never see,” the younger Blake had said.

And then, a switch automatically turned in her head and she realised what was really going on.

Bellamy wasn’t turning her daughter into a monster. He was protecting her from her fear of turning into one.

She noticed how he was always behind her, gun tightly gripped as if daring someone to look at her the wrong way. He stood tall and big and intimidating next to her, and she knew her daughter felt backed up. She needed his support, and he probably needed hers too.

She wasn’t going to interfere, so the only option left was to observe from afar.

Her position as Chancellor didn’t set any alarms when she opened the delinquents’ files and searched Bellamy’s name on them. Nobody thought anything of it as she scanned through his information, looking for something that might want to make her take her daughter away from him.

It was pointless. She knew Clarke wouldn’t go anywhere without him.

She had seen his file once or twice, never paying that much attention. He had a sister, that much she knew. Everyone in the Ark had heard about the boy with an illegal sister. Floated mother. Missing father. She gulped when her eyes scanned the next piece of information on his file: 25 years old.

Abby was a trained and an experienced doctor. She knew no 18-year-old could have Bellamy’s physique, so she always thought he had to be older. Perhaps 21 or 22. But not six years older than his daughter. Definitely not that.

She closed the file, and took a deep breath. It’s fine, she thought. Clarke is an adult, she can make her own decisions. She knows who to trust, and she seems to trust Bellamy a lot more than she trusts everyone else. But she couldn’t forget the fact that he was a man, not a boy like that Finn Collins she had heard liked Clarke, but was dating Raven at the same time.

She should probably ask Clarke how she was feeling after all that trouble, she thought. Abby was grateful her daughter had the typical problems of a young woman, like crushes and first kisses, instead of worrying about saving the world. At least momentarily.

But still. Bellamy was a man, and it made her feel a bit uneasy. She kept her concerns for herself, and instead tried to steal some information from Marcus discreetly.

When she approached him in the sunlight of camp, standing by his side, she couldn’t help but ask him, “Is he good?”

Marcus looked at her, but she was looking far ahead, “With the kids?”

“In general”, Abby replied. “But yeah”

They both looked at him as he walked around the cadets, giving instructions to a few, “They listen to him, and he knows what he’s doing”, the man spoke, “So I’ll say he is.”

Abby nodded, her eyes still on him. Marcus nudged her, “What is it?”

She hesitated. Did she really want to have that conversation?

She settled for “He seems to have matured.”.

“It’s what the ground forced him to do,” he fought the urge to smile, “And your daughter.”

Her stomach flipped, “My daughter.”

Marcus nodded, “They’re good for each other. Keep the other alive.”

Running footsteps could be heard from behind them, and Bellamy was now looking in their direction, “You’re late!”, he shouted.

Abby looked behind her. A young man around Clarke’s age and dressed a in a guard’s uniform smiled as he spotted Bellamy. She recognised him as Miller.

He gave the two adults a nod in acknowledgment and turned back to Bellamy, “Sorry, man,” he patted his back loudly when he approached him, “I blame Brian for the delay.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement in them, “Shut the hell up and get to work unless you want extra shifts next week.”

Miller laughed, but Abby knew Bellamy had been completely serious. Miller saluted him, “Heard you loud and clear, dad.”

 _Dad_? Why was this young man referring to Bellamy as his dad? Abby realised it must have been a joke. Yeah, that was probably it.

And when she heard Monroe call Clarke ‘mom’ a week later, it took her a second before she went into full panic mode.

Were their friends calling them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ as a joke, or was something else going on? She had never heard the nicknames until now. Could it be possible that Clarke was…? No. Her daughter would never be so irresponsible. She had her implant anyway.

 _Shit_ , maybe she doesn’t.

A few months after settling into camp, a few women had gotten their periods for the first time in years. Supplies in the Ark were limited, and they needed to avoid unwanted pregnancies anyways to save oxygen. An implant to prevent periods and pregnancies seemed to be the most sensible solution. But the radiation of the ground had melted them away, Abby guessed, and they were starting to fail.

She would have told her if her implant had failed, she was sure of that. But what if Clarke didn’t know?

She finished with her last patient of the day and went over to her daughter as soon as her shift was over, “Clarke”, she knew her daughter could sense the worry in her voice.

“What’s wrong?”, she inquired.

Abby gulped. There was no easy way to tackle this, “I need to check if your implant has failed,” she said flatly.

Clarke blinked, “It hasn’t. I haven’t gotten my period in years.”

“Just to make sure, honey,” she needed to think more like a doctor now, and less like a mother. She couldn’t let her worry show in her voice.

Clarke crossed her arms, “Why the sudden rush?”

She ignored her daughter’s pointed look, “Some women have suffered from implant failures. We need to make sure yours is functioning properly, and check for alternatives if it isn’t.”

“There are no more implants?”

Abby shook her head, “A lot of supplies were destroyed when we landed. Other stuff was left in the Ark,” she continued, “But I believe Lincoln knows a few natural remedies to prevent pregnancy.”

“Why would you want to prevent pregnancies, mom?”, Clarke’s voice was firm. She noticed the room had cleared out, and Jackson was nowhere to be seen, “We are not in space anymore. People can have as many children as they want, whenever they want. We don’t have to fight for oxygen anymore.”

“I know, Clarke,” she sighed, “But we need to fight nonetheless. It isn’t safe to bring a child into the world right now. Not when it’s still a mess.”

Clarke stayed silent, lost in thought. Abby tried not to panic. Did Clarke want to have a child? Was that it? Have a child with -

“Fine, check my implant,” Clarke pulled her out of her intrusive thoughts.

“We’ll do it tomorrow morning,” Abby nodded. “Be safe in the meantime, just in case.”

Clarke’s cheeks visibly reddened, “Mom, I’m not-,” she shook her head, “I don’t...I...I’m not seeing anybody.”

She felt relieved, kind of, “Okay.”

Clarke nodded, “Okay.”

They stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, eyes everywhere but on each other. Abby couldn’t help it anymore, “I’m sorry about having been so straight-forward about it,” she confessed. She could tell it had caught her daughter by surprise. She continued before she lost the courage to bring it up again, “I heard how Monroe called you ‘mom’. And I heard Miller call Bellamy ‘dad’. I guess I made the wrong assumption.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. She was visibly embarrassed, and Abby hated to see it. She wanted to assure her that it was fine, that having a crush wasn’t the end of the world. That having a relationship was nothing to be ashamed of. But she couldn’t.

“Bellamy and I are not together. They’re just stupid nicknames,” Clarke said firmly, a hint of sadness in her voice, “He… Nevermind.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Clarke, tell me.”

“Mom, it’s okay.”

“No,” Abby grabbed her hand in hers, a touch of comfort she had long missed, “He what?”

Clarke hesitated. Abby squeezed her hand, reassuring her. When she finally spoke, she was surprised to see that her daughter had reached the same conclusion as her, “I think I’m too young for him to see me that way.”

Abby bit her lower lip. She wanted to comfort her daughter, tell her it was alright and that she was overthinking it. But what if she was right? Clarke was by no means childish, and surely didn’t act like a 19-year-old. It pained her, because she would never get her youth back. And it shouldn’t be like this.

“From what I’ve seen,” Abby started, slow in her speech, “Bellamy treats you as an equal. I don’t think he sees you as a little girl.”

Clarke didn’t show any emotion as she spoke, “I was thinking more like a sister.”

It was one thing not to be particularly fond of Bellamy Blake. But it was something else to lie on his behalf, and to tell her daughter things she didn’t really believe herself just to keep her away from him. So she opted for, “I think that’s unlikely, Clarke.” Because it was true.

Then, a soft knock on the door startled both women. Standing at the door frame was the tall figure of Bellamy Blake, staring at mother and daughter in confusion when he saw them holding hands. Abby noticed Clarke stiffen.

He cleared his throat, “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” he sounded nervous, “Clarke, are you coming?”

Her eyes widened a bit, “Yeah, sure. Hold on. One second.”

Bellamy nodded and stepped out of the room again. Abby looked down at her daughter, fondly. She took a strand of her golden hair and put it behind her ear, a soft smile on her lips. She blamed her undying love for her daughter and her desire to see her happy once and for all for her next words, “He’s a good man.”

She was surprised by her mom’s words. She knew Abby wasn’t Bellamy’s biggest fan. Clarke nodded, “He is,” she sighed, “That’s what makes it complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Abby said, momentarily believing her words, “Speak to him, figure things out.”

She could almost hear the gears grinding in Clarke’s head. She then nodded, but didn’t move.

Abby had always known, for some reason, that what Clarke and Bellamy had went beyond a friendship. It went beyond being co-leaders. A partnership, perhaps. She wanted to be blind enough not to see it. She wanted to ignore it to feel better about her daughter growing up. But she knew that, eventually, Clarke would want to be with someone. Just like she had wanted to be with Jake. Just like she wants to be with Marcus now. She’d want to build a family of her own, if they ever saw peace on the ground. And honestly, really, if she had to choose someone for Clarke, man or woman, she hated to admit that Bellamy would be at the top of her list. There was nobody else who was willing to fight, kill, and even die from her daughter other than herself. She knew Bellamy would go to hell and back for her daughter. He had done it already, when hell was a place called ‘Mount Weather’. And that was more than any mother could ask for.

“Thank you, mom,” Clarke said, truthfully. She squeezed her hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow for the implant.”

Abby nodded, “Okay,” her hands turned cold the moment Clarke released her grip on her.

She wasn’t done. She needed to get it out of her chest, because what she felt was true. It would have been true, anyway. She was sure-

“Clarke,” she heard her own voice before she could stop herself.

Her daughter, not yet too far away to hear, turned immediately on her heels. Abby stepped closer, slowly, as if to think her words through. But she already knew what she wanted to say.

An easy smile appeared on her mouth as the most heartbreaking yet beautiful words Clarke had ever heard poured from her lips, “Your dad would’ve loved him.”

* * *

He is 26 and she is 20 when they collide.

It was pouring rain outside, and the heavy clouds on the sky were a sign that it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Clarke traced her fingertips through the paper, blurring the lines out carefully. She took her pencil, and aimed for the nose again. How did she always manage to get it wrong?

The sound of the rain was helping her concentrate. Everyone in camp was taking it easy that day, in need of a well-deserved break. There was not much they could do when the grounds outside were flooded, anyways. Footsteps could be heard from the other side of the bed from time to time. Fingers turning a page every few minutes.

“How’s the book?”, her eyes were still on her drawing. _Damn_ , she got it wrong again.

It took him a few seconds to answer. She assumed he was just finishing a passage. She heard how he closed the book and placed it on her bedside table, “It’s not Greek mythology, but it’s alright,” she could hear the smile on his lips.

She rolled her eyes playfully, but he couldn’t see her, “I know you’re rolling your eyes at me,” he said as he stood up from her cranky bed. She tensed as he sensed his approach.

He looked over her shoulder, “You never get my nose right.”

She put her pencil down in annoyance, “It’s not my fault you have a stupidly difficult nose to draw.”

He let out a low chuckle. Her stomach flipped at the sound, “I’m just teasing, Princess. I like it.”

“Didn’t think you were a liar, Blake.”

“I’m not,” he leaned over her, his arm loosely around her shoulders as he reached for the pencil on her desk. He took a nearby piece of paper and started doodling something, “Don’t look.”

But she couldn’t, not really. She couldn’t take her eyes off the pencil, so small in his ridiculously large and calloused hands. Her breath hitched. Shit. She wanted him to touch her so bad.

She knew how his hands felt on her. On her shoulder, on her back, on her waist. Sometimes covering her own. She didn’t know when he had gotten so touchy, but she definitely wasn’t complaining. One day he didn’t even accidentally brushed her when he walked past her, and the next his hand travelled to the small of her back as they walked inside the meeting room.

It had been a rollercoaster of emotions for her after that.

A hand here, a touch there, his fingers on her cheek once (he claimed she had something on her skin; she didn’t believe him), and she was definitely gone. There was no going back, but they didn’t seem to be moving forward either.

So yeah, it wasn’t exactly difficult not to stare at his drawings when his hands and his fingers were literally right there. How the hell did he have such enormous fingers, anyway? She pressed her legs together as she imagined what they could do to her.

“Okay, you can look now.”

Clarke looked down at the piece of paper in her desk, where a poorly executed sketch of her face lied. She couldn’t help it, and laughed out loud.

“Oh my god, Bellamy,” she whipped a small tear from her eye, “What the hell is that?! Please tell me it’s not me.”

His smile was big, and it reached his eyes, “You don’t like my art or what, Princess?”

“I love it, Bell,” she smiled up at him, her noses almost brushing. They were so damn close. She looked back at the drawing, trying to calm down the fire in her chest, “Can I keep it?”

“All yours,” he smiled. He took the pencil again and signed it on a corner, “There. It’s an original.”

“An original Blake, wow,” she gasped, “It’ll be worth 300 Grounder goats in about fifty years.”

He nudged her playfully on the shoulder. The scent of her freshly washed hair reached his nostrils, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

Clarke froze. This was new.

Bellamy had never kissed her before. She didn’t think they were there yet. Sure, they touched here and there, small touches everyday just to keep their sanity. It wasn’t a big deal. All good friends did it. Right?

She pushed it all away, “It’s kind of ugly,” he smiled, “You can admit it. I promise it won’t break my heart.”

“So that’s how you see me, huh?,” she teased, “Kind of ugly.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes playfully. He had one hand on his hip, the other on the back of her chair. They longed to touch her. His voice came out hoarser than he intended to, “You know you’re beautiful.”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. She played it cool nonetheless, “If you say so.”

“You are,” his tone was serious now, all business. She swallowed as the hand on the back of her chair went to stroke her hair. He ran his fingers, oh his fingers, through her smooth hair. She silently celebrated she had showered that day. She closed her eyes in comfort, almost dozing off at his touch, “You okay?,” she heard him ask. She silently nodded.

Clarke leaned her head on his stomach as he continued to massage her scalp. This was definitely the most intimate moment they had shared to date, and she didn’t know where that left them. Were they crossing any line?

“I love your drawing,” she said, eyes still closed.

He chuckled, “I’m glad you did, Princess,” he said, “But yours are much better.”

She hummed in response. Bellamy continued to run his fingers through her hair for a few minutes, until, “I need to get going, Princess.”

She pouted and looked up at him, “Go where?”

His hand left her head, and he stood awkwardly a few feet from her. Clarke arched an eyebrow. He scratched the back of his neck as he said, “I’m meeting Gina for a drink.”

Her heart stopped. She knew Gina. She was a very smiley, very bubbly girl that worked in engineering with Raven. They had met her a few times and she was nice, sure. But she didn’t think Bellamy found her that nice. Nice enough to meet her alone. Her face dropped, and she couldn’t even try to hide it, “Oh,” she put her drawing supplies away, and stood up, “Have fun, then.”

He noticed the shift in her tone, “Clarke.”

“Bellamy.”

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

He rolled his eyes at her, a small smile on his lips, “Clarke,” his face was calm, but his tone was a warning.

She tugged at the end of her sleeves nervously, “It’s fine,” she lied, “Go. You’re going to be late.”

He nodded, grabbing his guard jacket from the end of her bed. She hugged herself as she walked with him to the door. He put a hand in the door handle, “See you at dinner?”

She gave him a small smile, “Maybe.”

And he was gone.

She wanted to scream. They had agreed to spend a relaxing evening together, drawing and reading and talking and enjoying the comfortable silence between them. And then he had kissed her head, and played with her hair. And now he was gone. Gone on a damn date with some cute brunette who was probably going to win his heart over. Because she was nice, and easygoing, and she was around his age.

The conversation she’d had with her mother a few months prior had been nothing but that. A conversation.

“Talk to him. Figure things out,” she had said.

But they hadn’t. And now he was off to meet someone else for a drink. Why couldn’t they go for a drink? Yeah, sure, she wasn’t 21. But certain laws had been conveniently ignored for the past three years. Their time on the Ark had been nothing but a dictatorship, and they wanted to make things differently. They had to survive everyday, fight everyday. A few drinks at the age of 20 weren’t going to do any damage.

She sighed and sank in her bed. She wanted to cry. And Bellamy. She wanted Bellamy so bad. She wanted him to hug her, kiss her head, whisper sweet nonsense into her ear until she fell asleep in his arms. She wanted to spend every minute of every hour with him, and she didn’t want to worry about him going on stupid dates with any Ginas.

But she was dumb, and she wasn’t going to do shit about it. Because they had an amazing friendship and partnership, and anything more than that would ruin their connection. She was sure of that.

And there was the age gap thing. She was sure she wanted to be with a woman his age, probably someone like Gina. Someone he didn’t see as his sister, as a kid.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again it was way past dinner time. She hadn’t even fully woken up when a knock on her door startled her.

“Come in,” her room was dark, but she knew who it was right away.

Bellamy walked it, switching on the light. He had a bowl on his hand, “Slept well?”, he smiled.

She rubbed her eyes, “Not really.”

He walked towards her, sitting down on the bed. He handed her the bowl, “Eat up.”

She blinked, “You brought me dinner?”

“I sure did. Come on, eat.”

She ate in silence, watching him as he stared at nothing in particular. She raised an eyebrow, “Had a good time with Gina?” She didn’t want to know, but at the same time she did.

He shrugged, “It was okay,” he was looking at her now, “Not exactly what I’d call exciting company, but she’s nice.”

She chuckled, “And bringing me dinner is exciting enough?”

She handed him the empty bowl, and he carefully set it on her desk. He glanced at her drawing of him. His nose was mildly right.

“Being with you is exciting.”

 _Oh_.

She smiled, because she didn’t know what to say. She was at loss for words, too tired to decipher the meaning of his speech. Outside, the rain poured.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said, suddenly standing up and dragging him behind her. He didn’t fight back.

They crossed paths with Lincoln, who gave them a small nod and continued his path, probably over to Octavia’s room. She heard her mother’s voice in medbay before they reached the main door of the Ark structure.

“You want to take a walk in the rain?” He asked, amused.

She didn’t answer him, but rather tugged at his arm until they were both outside, rain pouring over them. Clarke smiled and closed her eyes, breathing in the humid air. God, she had missed rain.

Bellamy looked at her with soft eyes, an easy smile on his lips. He noticed her hand was still holding his arm, “Let’s go.”

They strolled through camp together, soaking wet. The guards at the gate gave them a weird look, but they couldn’t care less. The dim light of the moon allowed Bellamy to see the glimpse in her eyes, her relaxed expression. When was the last time she’d felt so carefree? And holy shit, she was so fucking beautiful.

His hand travelled to her waist, bringing her close to his chest as they walked back inside the Ark through the garage door. There was nobody there, no lights, no sound. It looked like a ghost town.

Her back was now to his chest, and she was breathing rapidly. They both were soaked, yet neither seemed to mind. His fingers tickled her stomach, making her squeal. His other hand went to rest on her hip. He couldn’t believe she was literally in his arms. She felt so small, so petite, and he was about to explode.

She turned around, facing him. His hands didn’t move from her body, “Bell,” her voice was low, barely a whisper.

He leaned in in an act of bravery, his wet forehead touching hers. He was pretty sure she had stopped breathing. When her tiny hands went to rest on his chest, his heart imploded.

_Fuck it._

_Fuck everything._

He didn’t care anymore. He should’ve stopped caring three years ago, he understood that now. The woman he had in front of him owned his heart. It was a kind of love he had never felt before. Shit, he had never thought he could be capable of experiencing such a feeling. He loved Octavia, but he was in love with Clarke.

The grip on her waist tightened, and Clarke’s insides twisted and turned. She got dizzy, and she couldn’t think straight. Bellamy was holding her. His hands were on her, respectful and firm and manly and hot. Shit, she was boiling. He touched his forehead to hers, and she closed her eyes, breathing him in. Her own hands went to his chest, feeling his defined muscles under his wet t-shirt. God, he wanted to take it off so badly.

His lips roamed her nose for a few seconds before planting a small kiss on the tip. The rain still poured on the other side of the door, but she could only hear her heartbeat. One of his hands left her waist, and she almost complained. He then placed it slowly behind her neck, his thumb brushing the side of her lips. Fuck.

“Clarke,” he almost didn’t hear him. She hummed in response, not wanting to open her eyes in case this was all a dream, “Princess,” and her knees were weak.

“Bellamy,” the way his name fell off her lips was the most incredible thing he had ever heard, he thought.

His nose brushed against hers again, his thumb on her cheek. There was no turning back. She wanted this, he wanted this. And there was no excuse, no age gap, no bullshit that could stop them now.

“Can I kiss you?”

She held her breath, “Please.”

Their lips touched in a soft yet urgent way. They were falling from space all over again, their brains rocking, their breaths stopping, their hearts exploding. However, this time, there was a safety net at the end, and they knew they were going to be alright. Because it was them. They were enemies, and friends, and co-leaders, and partners, and lovers, and soulmates. And incredibly, so incredibly stupid for not having taken the leap sooner.

When they pulled away, Bellamy brought her even closer to his chest, hugging her soaked body to his. He sighed in her hair, “Are you alright?”

Clarke nodded in his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, and noticed it was as fast as hers, “You?”

“I’m great, Princess.”

She smiled and dared to place a small kiss on his jaw. Bellamy cupped her chin with two fingers, and pressed their lips together again. When he pulled away, he couldn’t stop smiling, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

She smiled back, her lips already longing his touch, “Likewise.”

He sighed, “You’re the most important person in my life, Clarke,” her breath hitched as he listened to him, “There’s Octavia, of course, but this is different. I’m…I’m not…”

She kissed his jaw again, “Say it.”

He gulped, “I’m not...I’m not in love with Octavia.”

She chuckled, and so he did, “Who are you in love with, then?”

He knew she was teasing. And maybe he deserved that for taking so fucking long, “Well, there’s this girl. Blonde, not very tall, kind of snarky.”

She was laughing now, “Sounds like a catch.”

“It took me a while to catch her.”

She shook her head, “Not really.”

Bellamy’s hands went to the back of her tights, and her heart stopped for a moment. He scooped her up, making her wrap her legs around his torso. He held her up as if she was light as a feather, and it was doing things to her. He turned around and pushed her against the wall, his breath hot on her neck.

“Let’s take off these clothes,” his smirk was mischievous, and she liked where this was going, “Don’t want my Princess to catch a cold.”

Her knees gave out, and she thanked God he was holding her up. _My Princess_. So, he was no longer _the_ Princess. She was _his_ Princess. Her head spinned.

“Sounds like a great plan,” she smirked, “You know where my room is,” she paused, “Or do you want our first time to be in a dark garage in front of a Rover?”

He chuckled, “Would it freak you out if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

She shook her head, smiling ear to ear, as she closed the space between them again. His lips tasted like a dream, too good to be true.

And as they walked into her room, and took their clothes off, and held each other under the blankets while their bodies collided, they knew.

They had waited too long to come home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
